Of Boys and Men
by theoneshotter
Summary: A dream you dream alone is just a dream, a dream you dream together is reality. -John Lennon  New York. 1964. Molly meets the man of her dreams, Ian faces his worst nightmare.   Not ATU-Beatles
1. Chapter 1

Like Dreamers Do

By: Z. P. Marr

Chapter One: What the Muffins Just Happened?

_Take this kiss upon the brow! _

_And, in parting from you now, _

_Thus much let me avow- _

_You are not wrong, who deem _

_That my days have been a dream; _

_Yet if hope has flown away_

_ In a night, or in a day,_

_ In a vision, or in none,_

_ Is it therefore the less gone?_

_ All that we see or seem _

_Is but a dream within a dream. _

_I stand amid the roar _

_Of a surf-tormented shore, _

_And I hold within my hand _

_Grains of the golden sand- _

_How few! yet how they creep _

_Through my fingers to the deep, _

_While I weep- while I weep!_

_ O God! can I not grasp _

_Them with a tighter clasp?_

_ O God! can I not save_

_ One from the pitiless wave? _

_Is all that we see or seem _

_But a dream within a dream?_

-_A Dream Within a Dream, Edgar Allen Poe_

The words wash over me, and fill me with silent wonder. "I Want To Tell You" is next on shuffle. _That's just the way I feel about George! _I think to myself, resolutely setting my alarm for 6:30 am, ridiculously early. Pulling the covers up to my chin, I close my eyes as "What Ifs" dance across the dark canvas of my mind.

_Wouldn't it be cool if I could go back in time and meet the Beatles? I might be able to save them from themselves…_With these last thoughts on my mind, I drift into dreamland, all dreads of tomorrow slipping away.

"Kids! Kids! Okay everyone, over here! Welcome! This is one of New York's most famous hotels." The hyper tour guide said in a Brooklyn accent. Her ginger ponytail bounced with every step.

"New York, concrete jungles where dreams are made of…" I quietly sang to myself. Ian St. Martin smiled at me. "We're in the land of dreams now, Molly." He said, blue eyes twinkling. He was the sweetest of boyfriends, and everything he said seemed to make me smile and wonder how I scored so lucky.

Our guide was going on about how many famous people had stayed in this hotel, and her squeaky voice was giving me a headache. I tuned her out and leaned against Ian's firm chest. Though only eighteen, he was already on his way to becoming the national running champion. He had gotten into Yale on a free scholarship with his talent. Oh, and he was wicked smart, too.

My best friend Kate McKenna looked at us laughing quietly together and rolled her eyes. Paul McCartney was the love of her life, and no plain old American boy could rise above him and his godly voice. According to her, anyway. Except Edgar King, who had the voice of an angel, also according to her. He had all the girls in our high school fawning over him, even though I said he looked like a girl.

We were on a school trip. I had been to New York a ton, so it wasn't very special. All I wanted to do was go see the John Lennon memorial, but our chaperones said that wasn't in the plan. Not everyone enjoys good music, apparently.

"Wait, what just happened?" I asked to nobody in particular. Everyone was gone. Oh wait, never mind, I saw Kate and Ian standing there, it would be cruel of fate to tear us three apart. I gazed down at the floor. It and the wallpaper had been an ugly puke green with gold flowery-things. Now they were an even uglier 50 year old rusty Chevy color. Then confusion hit. Was this a joke? Was I back at the youth hostel, fast asleep, Kate in the bunk under me and Ian in the boy's dorm down the hall? Or could this be real?

I was a believer in the unbelievable, and my mind went on overdrive. Aliens? Drugs? Science experiment? Magic? I began looking for hidden cameras, then checked myself. _Don't be silly, if the scientists are any good, you will never find the cameras. Play along. _Then I mentally laughed at myself. _Just go along with it, see what happens. _My brain did that sometimes, made me think that the world was a movie, and I was the star. I put away the spy and fought my way back into reality.

I reached for Ian's hand. Kate was smiling dreamily into space.

"Hey Kate!" I said. She turned to me and pulled out her earphones.

"Yeah?"

"Is it just me, or was the wallpaper green a minute ago?" She shrugged as a policeman came around the corner.

"What are you doing here?" he asked impatiently. "This floor is reserved for the Beatles." _Beatles. I must be dreaming! Time travel, how cool! But why? _

"What?" asked Ian, "aren't they dead?" I looked at him in mock horror, and he smiled at me and squeezed my hand.

"I wont have any nonsense from you kids. Now move along." He placed his hands on his hips and glared, daring me to run.

"What's the trouble Officer?" asked a Scouse accent behind us. I was busy attempting to stare the policeman down, so I didn't notice Kate.

"_Paul McCartney"_ she said reverently. I spun around so fast my hair hit Ian in the face.

"Yeah, I'm Paul." Said the incredibly famous Paul. "And sir, these kids are with us. C'mon guys." We obediently followed. I stared at the back of his blue-black mop top, too stunned for words.

"Hey, uh Paul? What year is this?" Asked Ian.

"1964. But what year did you think it was?" he said quizzically.

"Well, we were in 2012, in New York." I said nervously, regaining my voice.

"This is New York, I'm pretty sure." He said with a laugh. "2012? Gee, that's a long way away. Who's Prime Minister?"

"Uhhh" said Kate.

"I don't know England…" Ian said. He looked at me and I shrugged. "Why'd you say we were with you?"

"Oh, well I know how annoying coppers can be sometimes, so I figured I'd keep you from getting in trouble. You also looked kinda odd, your clothes are…different. Something told me that I needed to help you." He looked just about as perplexed as I felt. He didn't know what he was doing either.

We arrived at the hotel suite door. He opened it, revealing a large suite behind. The door surprised me, it was just a normal door. All my life I had been accustomed to the type of hotel door that locks with an electric lock and you needed a card to open it.

The suite was elegant, with lacy curtains artfully draped across large windows. The floor was dark wood, and two cream and gold armchairs and a couch surrounded a classy glass table. Through a small doorway, there was a small kitchenette with a white marble floor. There was the main room with sofas and armchairs, which was large and open, and along the walls, three doors led out. I later learned that two of these were bedrooms, both with twin beds. The other was a spacious bathroom, complete with white and gold marble tiling and a large Jacuzzi.

The boys had obviously been there for a while because there was a stack of pizza boxes by the door, a couple guitars lying about, and sheets of paper covered in illegible scribbles that I took to be songs.

"Hi Paul." Said John looking up from his book on the couch. I pulled my phone out to check for signal. There wasn't any. He looked curiously at me, and I tried to explain.

"This is my cellphone. It's basically a telephone that you can carry around with you everywhere." I said.

"They're from 2012." Paul added. John started.

"_2012?"_ he asked, sitting up fully and staring at us. "How on earth did you get here? And who are you?"

"I'm Molly" I replied, "and these are my friends Ian and Kate."

"We don't actually know how we got here." Ian said, casting a glance around the room. "Hey, aren't there four of you?" he asked.

"Yeah," but John's "yeah" had a bit of an r at the end, so it sounded like "yearh", because of him being from Merseyside, in Liverpool.

"Well, where are they?" Ian asked.

"Not sure, out someplace. They'll be back soon though. But how-" He was interrupted by loud shrieks from outside. I ran to the window, and the sight below amazed me. There were thousands of girls, jumping and screaming and carrying on like they were at a concert instead of in front of a hotel.

"Cute, aren't they?" Said Paul, coming up to stand beside me. Kate was staring bug eyed at him. I moved away before she attacked me for being within ten feet of him. You see, Kate has kind of a thing for James Paul McCartney. Her blue eyes got wider as he turned and approached her.

"Gahhh…P-p-paul…" She managed.

"Haha, yeah." Paul said with a smile. His accent wasn't so pronounced as John's. I remember reading somewhere that his mother taught him the Queen's English. She didn't want him to talk common scouse, because generally, in England, people with that accent are looked down upon. It's like English redneck.

Just then, the screams got louder. I went back to the window, and looking out, saw a mass of girls surge towards the middle. It was like two tidal waves coming to meet in the center. And among the cloud of beehives, purses, posters and pink claws, I saw two dark moptops fighting to the door.

The shorter one was following the taller, with his hand on his shoulder. The taller had an arm across his face, and another out in front, fending of the attack.

I felt someone come up beside me, and I heard John say,

"Stupid gits, shoulda snuck in the back. Now we gotta go get 'em." He looked me up and down, and I began to get uncomfortable. "We could use your help." He said. Worry for his mates was shining through his coarse shield. "'Kay, what I need you to do is take those glasses off, take your hair down, and…oh you've got a mouth full of metal." He glared at me like it was my fault.

I ran my tongue over my braces. "What are we doing?" I asked, exasperated.

"We're creating a diversion. Just don't smile."

Paul butted in, "aww come off it John, she doesn't have to be perfect, just don't let the girls get at her."

"Wait, what are you doing?" Asked Ian. Took long enough.

Paul answered him. "I usually have a pretty good idea what's running through John's head, and he and I are going to take these ladies," here he winked at Kate, and I stood up a little straighter. "And get the girls' attention. Once they look away, at these two with a Beatle each, they'll be consumed with jealousy and ignore Ringo and George." He smiled smugly, and he and John shared a look.

"An' they'll be able to get the bloody 'ell away!" Cried John, laughing.

"But we've gotta make sure the girls don't hurt them. They can be mean." Said Paul. "How old are you…Molly, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, seventeen." I said.

"Well she was just seventeen, you know what I mean, whooooooooo!" Sang John in a high-pitched voice. "But girl, you're gonna be eighteen, alright?"

"John." Said Paul sternly. "That's not how you 'whoooooo'. You have to shake your head like this." And we got to watch real live Paul McCartney whip his moptop around and 'whoooooo' like I'd only seen him do on YouTube with millions of girls screaming at him. Kate almost fainted.

"Right, yeah, okay Macca." John said dismissively. "Molly, come 'ead." He said to me, grabbing my hand. As he did, I heard a sharp intake of breath from the couch. Ian, slowly turning red in the face, fists clenched, said " Lennon, cut it out. She isn't going anywhere with _you_! I know what you do, you do drugs, and cheat on your wife, Molly told me!"

"Ian, stop! He doesn't do drugs-" Yet. I was about to say. But at the mention of Cynthia, his wife, his shield cracked a little more. He covered it well, though.

"Hold it tiger, I'll bring her back. She's a looker though, real cute in the-"

"JOHN!" Paul said, with a shocked look on his cherubic face.

"FACE. Face, McCartney. Don't think so dirty." He replied innocently.

Ignoring John, Paul held out his hand to Kate, and she took it.

"Are you alright luv? You're shaking like a leaf." He asked, concern in his eyes.

"Oh, m-m-me? Yeah, I-I'm fine."

"Just making sure." He said with a smile that made Kate's heart beat so hard and fast I could hear it.

John dragged me out the door, with Paul and Kate following us.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Great Escape

We walked out onto the street through a side door. I had my arm hooked through John's, and Paul was gently guiding Kate along by the hand. John suddenly stumbled and fell. On the way down, one Beatle boot hit me in the back of the knees, causing me to trip and collapse of top of him.

"Ooof" He grunted.

"John!" Paul said franticly. "Are you all right? You need to wear your glasses, you could seriously hurt yourself!"

"Mmmf." He replied. As I helped him up, a girl with reddish hair and squinty green eyes noticed us.

"THERE THEY ARE! THEY'VE GOT TWO GIRLS WITH THEM!" She shrieked.

The crowed turned. There was a deafening silence, and then the ground shook with the sheer force of the screeching, squealing, thousand-strong army of beehives attacking us.

Paul spared them a courtly wave before dashing off with Kate in tow. John grabbed me by the arm and, I followed him. Now, I have spent most of my life out of shape, and that day it was no different. I started slowing down, gasping for air. John scooped me up in his arms, making the bet that dragging me was more difficult then actually _hauling_ me. We were still far behind Paul, and the same girl that had noticed us before grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to the ground.

Then she and her cronies took out their close-range weapon, shiny patented-leather high heels. They kicked me, and they kicked me hard. The skinny heels tore at my clothes and skin, leaving marks that felt like whips laced with venom. I, of course, being the cool-headed girl that I am, took the wisest plan of action. I screamed.

So intent were they on kicking me six feet under the concrete, that they forgot all about the Beatle trying frantically to push his way through to come to my aid. It was funny, in a way. A very painful way.

One blonde girl pushed in close. I curled into a tighter ball. But instead of kicking me at very close and painful range, she grabbed me by the shoulders, and shoved me towards John. Looking up from the ground, I saw a girl bump into her, and with a shocked look in her icy blue eyes; the blondie punched the girl in the mouth.

"Oh God, I am so sorry! I didn't mean to! It just happens when someone comes up behind me." She said. The girl backed away slowly. I could almost see the light bulb go on over her head. Golden locks flying, she grabbed me and punched her way towards John. He gathered me up, and braced himself. He ran through the crowd, head bowed, looking like a true warrior. Or so I imagined. I had my eyes squinched shut and my mouth open in a scream the whole way.

We ducked into an alley, and John dropped me unceremoniously in a heap and lit a cigarette, though he was struggling for breath. Blondie looked me over.

"You look pretty bad." She said.

"I suppose I do." I said, inspecting a sore place on my arm where a nasty green bruise was already forming.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Molly. What's yours?"

"Addie. Short for Adelaide." She replied. "Are you hurt, John?" He coughed as an answer.

"John, please don't smoke." I said.

"Does it make you nauseous? Me too, when I was seven." He replied with bitter sarcasm. He took another drag. "A man's entitled to his pleasures, girl. This is one of the few I got."

"You sound like…never mind."

"Like who?"

"Just someone I've heard of. He really loved his friends, his son. But he was too drugged-out to notice them. He had a good heart, but he enjoyed enjoying himself too much. All he wanted was world peace, but instead, he fought everything. He had a coarse shield, and only a selected few could break into it, like his best friend. He knew the _real_ J- guy behind the glasses. But the selfish man let him down. He crawled into a white bag and never came out. He was shot and killed in 1980. The world misses him so much. He is a legend, where I come from." I sighed, wrapping my arms around my knees.

"He sounds like a jerk to me." Said John, twirling the half-finished cigarette between his fingers. Then he stubbed it out on the pavement and threw it down. "I'm not even in the mood for a ciggie now, thinking about pricks like him."

Addie was looking at me strangely.

"I think I know that guy." She said.

"You wouldn't, the fame's not gotten to him yet."

"No, I really do know who you're talking about. You're from the future, aren't you? Oh, I can't remember his name…"

"Because he's not like that yet. He's still a kid."

"No, he's 24. He's an adult."

"What? How do you know that?" I asked. Addie shrugged and said,

"He was born in 1940, and 1964 minus 1940 is 24, simple math."

"I didn't tell you when he was born though!"

"You didn't? That's weird. Told you I'd heard about him." Something about her was just so familiar.

"John! Molly! Where are you?" Called a familiar voice. John looked up, not in such a bad mood anymore.

"We're over here, Paulie!" He said loudly.

"Molly!" Said Kate, coming around the corner, holding Paul's hand. "We got worried, Paul was telling me all these crazy things the fans have done. Hey, who are you?"

"I'm Addie."

"Short for Adelaide." Wow, we were already finishing each other's sentences. Who _was_ this girl?

"Got a cig John? I'm all out." Paul asked. Kate turned red.

"NO!" She exclaimed. "Those cause cancer!" At the mention of cancer, something in Paul's face changed. Though he was turned away from him, John noticed something was wrong.

"Sit down, buddy." He said kindly. I watched the shield flicker and vanish. He put an arm around Paul's shoulders, and started telling him about the crazy girls. "They went potty out there! Absolutely bonkers! They were kicking Molly, I think she bled a little."

"Bled?" Asked Paul. The dark cloud was lifting off his brow, and the cute, impish grin was again firmly planted on his face. I didn't want to tell Paul that we knew, Kate and I did, all about his mother. How she had cancer, and died when he was fourteen. It didn't seem like something you'd want to hear from a couple of girls from fifty years away.

"Yeah, bled." John said. "See girls have these shoes with little pointy swords on the end. I think their mummies put them on so they can threaten guys to pay for the milkshake." Paul laughed, and work finished, the shield was back. "Right. Better get back to Boyfriend, it'll be time to feed him soon." John said, standing. Paul helped Kate up.

"What do you want for lunch?" He asked her kindly, "hot dogs, pizza, they've got good American food here. But I'm sure you're used to it."

"Oh I'm a vegetarian." She said.

"A vegetarian? That's neat." He shot her a smile. "So you believe killing animals is wrong?"

"Well, it's mostly how they're killed. 'If slaughterhouses had glass walls, everyone would be a vegetarian.' That's my favorite quote."

"Oh? Who said it?"

"You." She replied dreamily. I nudged her. Paul was staring of into space with a peculiar expression on his face. I would have to tell Kate to stop giving the Beatles hints about their future. We didn't want to accidentally alter history. _Oh wait, _I thought, _I'm such a hypocrite. I'll have to give myself the speech too. _I remembered how intently John had looked at me while I was telling him about himself. _You can't change the past, even if it seems like a good idea. Remember that, Molly. _

"Molly? You comin'?" Asked John.

"Yeah." I said. We hurried down the street, Paul and John arguing about where the back door to the hotel was.

"I swear it was over here. We walked by yesterday!" Paul said angrily.

"No, it's two blocks down that way that we turn, to get around to the back. I remember because I saw that funny little sign in the shop window, "_If left unattended, children will be given espresso and a puppy"_ or something. Then at the next block, there were those pretty birds that waved at us…"

"Wait, birds? I'm confused." Addie said. John seemed to notice her for the first time. His eyes widened. Staring at his shoes and fidgeting with his tie, he said,

"It's uh slang for em, girls." Addie laughed.

"I thought you meant _actual _birds!" I could see she was playing dumb. A common tactic she used to get guys. _Wait, _I thought, _how do I know that again? I met her half an hour ago! _

In spite of everything, we got to the hotel. We crept in, the door being just around the corner of the building, which I had suspected, and once we were in, we were safe. A man was waiting for us in the lobby.

"Hey guys. Who do you have with you?" He asked, gesturing at the three of us girls.

"Friends of ours." Said Paul, and John winked.

"Uh huh, well George and Ringo are upstairs waiting for you, and remember that you have to do the show tomorrow. Brian says no more going out, we got more complaints because of the fans."

John moaned, and Paul said,

"Okay Neil, thanks." _Neil Aspinall; Beatles Road Manager _said my internal Beatle dictionary.

Upstairs, Ringo and George were playing cards with Ian. As soon as we came in the door, Ian jumped up, spilling cards everywhere, and ran to give me a hug.

"Molly, oh Molly, promise me you won't do that again. What if we suddenly get sent back? I don't know what will happen if we're not together." He said anxiously, holding me like he was never going to let go.

"It's okay Ian, everything will be fine." I said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible while slowly being suffocated against his shoulder. I hadn't thought about getting back. What if we got stuck here? Or worse, what if we got transported to a different time all together?

These thoughts were wiped from my mind as I looked over Ian's shoulder, staring at the most beautiful man I had ever seen. He was staring right back at me. My heart stopped, and the room suddenly started spinning. _No fainting, no screaming, look away, LOOK AWAY!_ I told myself, but it was no use. George Harrison looked at me, and I looked right back at him.

Ian finally let me go, and took me over to a chair. I was shaky, and my heart was beating like a rabbit's. He was concerned, and obviously thought that his words had scared me.

"It's okay." He murmured into my hair, and then sat down at my feet. Ringo nodded hello, then went over to the phone with John to see about lunch. George finished gathering the cards that Ian had scattered. He made them into a neat little pile, and put them back in the box. Kate looked at me, then looked at George, and looked at me again. Her eyes were clearly saying, "uh oh."

She had made herself comfortable on the couch, in Paul's lap. He followed her gaze, and looked at her questionably. They seemed to be having a silent conversation. I hugged my knees to my chest, and watched George get his guitar out. Then he looked at me again.

"Where you from?" He asked politely.

"2012." I answered, trying to get this all out of the way as soon as possible. His mouth dropped open a little, and he looked at Kate, Ian, Addie, and me again.

"Oh, I'm not from the future. I'm just your average New York girl!" Addie said.

John appeared from the kitchen.

"Hey, Addie," he cleared his throat, "what do you want for lunch?"

"Oh, um, I don't know." She replied.

"Well, come 'ere and we'll ask Brian what we can get." She got up and walked into the kitchen.

"They keep saying "Brian," who is he?" Ian asked from the floor.

"He's our manager." George said, "he tells us what to do, makes decisions, that sort of thing."

"Oh."

"Yeah." George looked at me. I raised my head from where it was resting on my arms. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm just tired, that's all." I said, stifling a yawn. He smiled when it came out anyway. I heard a little growl from my feet.

"I didn't know you got a dog, George. 'E doesn't like you talking to Molly much, does 'e?" Remarked John snidely from the kitchen.

"Watch it, Lennon." Said Ian with a voice that could freeze Hell over.

"I'm terribly frightened." John replied, sticking his head in and smiling widely.

"John, leave him alone." Said Paul. I had almost forgotten about them. Ian's anger pushed out all other flickers of life in the room. Kate looked at me intently. "Can I talk to you alone Molly?" She asked.

"Sure." I replied. We got up and walked to one of the bedrooms. I closed the door behind us, and she said,

"Molly, this isn't good. I know about the ginourmous crush you have on George, and Ian does too."

"I know, I know, what am I going to do?" I asked plaintively. I had had a crush on George as soon as I fell in love with the Beatles' music. George was my absolute favorite, and I had always imagined meeting him. Now that I was here, with him, I had no idea what to do.

"You still love Ian, right?"

"Yes, there's no one else like him! He's smart, he's funny, he's kind…"

"And now that you see George as a human, does he fit the bill? We won't be here forever, you know." She said. As always, she was wise beyond her years.

"Yeah, but hey! You and Paul are all over each other!"

"I don't have a boyfriend to lose." She said. Then she blushed, "I was _not_ all over him!"

"Tough luck, you're smitten."

"I know…but be careful about George and Ian."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Witty Beatle (Addie's POV)

Kate yawned and Paul stroked her hair.

"Bedtime, luv?" He asked tenderly. She nodded, and he picked her up and carried her out of the room.

It was just John and I. All alone. He was sitting sideways in a chair, legs hanging over the side, hands behind his head. His gaze was turned towards the ceiling, blank and not giving a clue to his underlying emotions.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, trying to get through to him. When he didn't answer, I said "EARTH TO LENNON!" loudly, and he jumped.

"Yes?" He replied.

"What are you thinking about?" I repeated. He sighed and looked back at the ceiling.

"My wife." He said somberly. And my heart felt like it had been dropped off the torch on the Statue of Liberty, right down into the freezing bay.

"Oh." I said, trying not to give myself away.

"Only joking!" He said with a wicked grin. "I was thinking about that hunk of a guy across the hall named Paul McCartney. The girls are right, he really is a dreamboat." I was exasperated, how could anyone _stand_ John? But as I watched him begin to bite his fingernail and then catch himself, I started to rethink that. _ I _could stand him; I could stand him for the rest of my life. He yawned and rumpled his hair. "You a Beatles fan?" He asked.

"Sort of." I replied. "You guys seem a little too 'perfect' for me."

"Oh really?" He said, raising his eyebrows. "I could shatter your allusions, if you wish. We're really quite nasty, we eat while we're watching the telly."

"Mhhhhm, tell me more." I said, leaning forward in spite of myself.

"Well, it's easier to show you." He said, getting up and walking over to the couch. He sat down next to me, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"You're such a daredevil."

"I know." He put his hands around my waist, and pulled me in. He kissed me hard on the mouth. I kissed him back, running my hands through his light brown hair.

THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN TRUNCATED SO YOKO WON'T MURDER ME

I pulled away suddenly.

"What are you doing?" I hissed.

"What does it look like luv?" He replied drunkenly.

"Ugh, gross. How many beers have you had?"

"One too many luv, but that doesn't change the way I feel about you."

"Yay, I wonder how many girls would die to be in my place." I said bitterly.

"Oh but Addie, _you_ are _my_ girl. I'm not gonna let anyone have you."

"What is Cynthia then? Your pet golden retriever?"

"Let's not talk about her just yet. I want _you_. Don't kill my buzz."

"I think it would take a lot of ice water to do that."

"Exactly." He said, "I've been working up the courage all afternoon. Three beers and two shots of scotch-and-coke did the trick."

"_Three?"_

"And the scotch, but it's 'kay. I still love you, and you're having trouble resisting me."

"Why did you have to drink all that to kiss me? I thought you were the "macho" one?" I asked.

"Ha, no I'm the "witty" one." He said, stuffing his feelings back in the box so they wouldn't get out again.

"Alright. I'll kiss you again when you're sober." I said, standing up. He pulled me back down and held me close.

"Please don't go Addie luv. I need you. You have no idea how much I need you." He trembled, and I felt something wet plop into my hair. I lifted my head from his chest and looked into his eyes, which were glassy from tears.

"John, it's pitiful when a drunk man cries."

"I-I'm not crying." He sniffed loudly.

"Shhh, it's okay Johnny. Let's not have so much to drink next time, alright?" I said, stroking his face. We fell asleep like that, me lying on his chest, his arms wrapped around me.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Cornflakes and Jam Butties

That night, I lay in bed and thought about what was happening.

_I love George; I've always loved George, but what about Ian? I love him too…_There was a snort from beside me, and I got smacked in the face by Ian's arm.

"Hey!" I said, sitting up, "You hit me!"

"M'sorry." He muttered, rolling over so his back was to me.

"Everything alright?" Asked George.

"Yeah, everything's grand. I just can't sleep."

"Well that's gear, isn't it? Neither can I."

"Really?" I asked, leaning my head over the edge and looking at him where he lay on the floor. "You don't look terribly comfortable."

"The floor is kinda hard, but if I line the pillows up and sleep on them, it's fine." He said with a grin. "I'm hungry, want to go see if we can find something to eat?"

"Sure!" I said, hopefully not to eagerly.

We walked through the living room, and I heard a sleepy sigh from the couch.

"Gah, Lennon's done it again." George whispered.

"What?" I asked, looking in the direction of his gaze. Addie was sound asleep, on John. He had a hand on her stomach, and it was gently rising and falling with her breath. John murmured something incoherent, and turned his head to the side. Addie sighed in her sleep and snuggled closer to him.

My eyes widened. What was she doing? I saw her giggling with him, but I didn't know it was this serious. Generally speaking, she toyed with a boy, and it only went as far as smiling, laughing, and maybe a peck on the cheek, if he was lucky. Then she cut off communication and left him to die. _True love_. I thought bitterly.

As George and I continued to the kitchen, he said,

"He does that all the time, you know. Picks up birds, has a little fun, then doesn't remember their names the next morning."

"So does Addie." I said.

"But you just met her today, right? Or do I have cotton in my ears?" I laughed.

"It's complicated."

"I've got time."

"I've got tiiiiiiime." I echoed, singing.

"Ha, what?"

"Oh nothing." I said coyly.

"I don't want to know." He laughed, opening the refrigerator. "Okay, we've got scotch, coke, milk, and um, scotch." He opened a cabinet. "And cornflakes. Oh yeah, here's some jam and bread. Want a jam buttie?"

"What's that?"

"Sandwich." He smiled again, and I couldn't help but laugh. In real life, he was even cuter.

"Yummy." I said. "And a coke, please."

"The coke'll keep you up, and beauty sleep is good for you, even if you don't need it." He winked.

"I don't mind, I sleep too much anyway." He handed me a coke in a glass bottle.

"You and John both. He sleeps lightly, but he's determined. Woe to him who wakes him up!"

"Or her." I said, nodding my head in the direction of the living room.

"Ah, but she seems like a lucky one, got a good head on her shoulders. She won't put up with his bollox."

"She's a good girl at heart, she just likes excitement."

"Can't say the same about John, he lazes around, then goes out heartbreaking. The girls run to Paul afterward, but his lap appears to be full!" He laughed and so did I.

"Kate _loves_ Paul. Ever since I met her it has been _Paul_ this, and _Paul _that. It's funny because I'm John-like."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, I'm wild, I do what I want, and people tell me I'm witty." He smiled, and his brown eyes glowed.

"You amaze me!" He said. "You've just got this light around you, I can't stop smiling."

I picked up my coke and took a sip.

"You're funny." I replied.

"Ha, right. Here's your _sandwich_."

"Thank you for dumbing it down for me,"

"Nah, I just "Americanized" it. You're a smart little girl!"

"I'm not little! I'm seventeen." I said, pouting.

"Since when?" George replied.

"Let's see…December."

"Three months. You're still a tot." He smiled yet again. "Eat your jam buttie, I mean, sandwich."

"Mmm, what are you having for your midnight snack, George?"

"I'll have some…cornflakes."

"Well, I suppose you can have some, seeing as it's" I looked at the clock on the little stove, "three thirty one in the morning, breakfast time!"

He took a spoonful of cornflakes, and wiggled his eyebrows at me.

"So, how do you know Addie so well?" He asked.

"Well, I feel like I've met her before." I replied.

"That's interesting…but you're from 2012, and she lives in the present. Or in your case, the past."

"I know, it's weird."

"What was that song you were singing?"

"Um, just a little song I like…"

"Sing the rest, please?"

"Why?" I whined.

"Because I liked it. We are a lot alike."

"I don't really remember the words."

"Yes you do." He said insistently.

"Fine! _I want to tell you,_

_I'm all hung up and I don't know why…something something something…I don't mind,_

_I could wait forever,_

_I've got time…_

_I wish I knew you well,_

_Then I could speak my mind and tell you,_

_Maybe you'd understand…"_

"That's all?"

"I don't remember the rest." He laughed.

"That's a cool tune, d'you know the chords?" He asked. Typical George!

"Haven't a clue!" I replied, smiling.

"Who wrote it?"

"Geo- um, I don't remember."

"Yes you do." Said George. He could see right through me.

"Do you want to listen to it?" I asked.

"Okay!" I went back into the bedroom, with him at my heels, and got my phone from the bedside table. We crept past Addie and John, back into the kitchen.

After unwinding my headphones, I found the song. I handed the earbuds to George, and he put them in his ears, laughing when they fell right out. He put them back in, and was surprised as his voice began to sing.

"That's me!" He said. I smiled at him, his eyes were open wide with delight, and his crooked smile seemed to light up the whole room. When the song finished, he said, "Can I hear another?"

"Nope." I said with a grin. "You've got to write these, remember?"

"Fine, you're still cute, though."

"Aww, you don't mean it!"

"But I do, my love." He fluttered his eyelashes at me and I giggled.

"Georgie! You're such a flirt."

"Mmmh, Brian'll kill me if he finds us up this early." He leaned back on the counter.

"Brian will kill you if he finds eight Beatles here instead four!"

"You're right, off to bed then. We'll just hide you in the closet."

"Will you hide with me?"

"No." He said, grinning, "Someone has to hide the evidence."

"SHURRUP! I'M TRYING TO SLEEP!" Yelled John from the living room.

"Told you he was a light sleeper." Said George mischievously. John stumbled in, rubbing his eyes.

"Will you both shut the bloody 'ell up?" He asked angrily.

"I'm going to bed!" I said, walking out of the kitchen.

"It all began with cornflakes and jam butties…" I heard John say.

"Very amusing, John." Replied George.

"I love the Beatles." I said quietly to myself, smiling like a fool.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Baby's in Black, and John's Feelin' Blue (Kate's POV)

I opened my eyes and saw morning sunlight shining through the window. Dust particles swirled like ballerinas in the yellow glare. I looked away, the bright light was startling to my eyes. I was greeted by Ian's sleeping face, his black hair messy and sticking up in odd directions.

Looking at the clock, I saw that it was only 8:30. _They won't be up for a while._ I thought to myself. As my feet touched the floor, I shivered. The t-shirt Ringo had given me only came down to my knees. I spotted my bobby socks on the end of the bed and slipped them on.

On the other side of Ian, as far away as she could possibly get, slept Molly. She was curled into fetal position, ankles crossed. Her curly brown hair drifted over the pillow, and a few stray ringlets rested lightly on her cheekbones. She frowned in her sleep and muttered something about "I'll have a coke…what's a jam buttie…"

I sighed, she was a restless sleeper. George was splayed on the floor, his thin, lanky frame resting peacefully against the wall. His dark brown moptop was ruffled, and his mouth was open slightly. I quietly opened the door and stepped into the living room.

Addie and John were sleeping on the couch. John opened his eyes at the sound of the door softly closing.

"It's too early." He muttered, his brown eyes struggling to focus without his glasses. His eyes reminded me of Paul's even though the latter's were hazel, but more on the green side. John had an interesting nose, regal and imposing, but also something you would put on as a gag for a party.

"Morning!" I said cheerfully.

"Ugh." He replied, pulling a pillow over his head. Addie shifted and yawned, tucking her blonde head under his chin. He rubbed her back absentmindedly. "Hello Kate." He said, his voice rough from sleep.

I smiled, you could certainly tell a lot about a man by his music. I heard a door close, and I turned to see Paul walking in. My heart skipped a beat.

"Good day, sunshine!" He said cheerfully.

"Morning, Paul." I replied.

"Ah, I see you two have gotten cozy." He said to John.

"Shh, she's still asleep." John replied quietly. At the sound of his voice, Addie opened her blue eyes. She seemed regal, even without make-up or fancy clothes. There was also something very familiar about her.

"How'd you sleep Kate?" Paul asked. As I turned around, I took in the sight of him. His big hazel doe eyes were bright and beautiful, and his inky hair was ruffled from sleep. Even though his hair wasn't combed, he was already wearing a white collared shirt and black pants, neat, as always.

"Very well, thank you." I replied.

"Excuse the appearance, I'm going to go comb my hair. There isn't a mirror in the bedroom." Paul said, smiling boyishly.

"Princess Paulie inconvenienced?" said John, laughter in his voice.

"Yes, John. People really need to learn how to decorate hotel rooms properly."

"Americans." Accused John.

"Not that you would worry about your hair if Brian didn't make you. I remember those days in Hamburg where you would saunter on stage in your boxers, hair a mess. Oh yes, smelling of smoke and drink to boot."

"Aye, but Paulie, those were wild days! Before Eppy made us 'ang up the leather and put on the suits and shit." John stretched and smiled dreamily, remembering the good old days. "Besides, you played to those boozed-up Nazis in a bed sheet, you're no Saint Paul."

"I wonder if we'll still remember when we're sixty four…" Paul suddenly jumped on the table and began mimicking Lennon. **"YOU MAKE ME DIZZAY MISS LIZZAY! THE WAY YOU ROCK 'N' ROLL! C'MON GIMME FEVAH, PUT YA LITTLE 'AND IN MIIINE….YA MAKE ME DIZZAY MISS LIZZAY, GIIIIRL YA LOOK SO FIIINE!"**

"You forgot the words, Paulie." John teased. "You sound like a choir boy these days." Paul pouted.

"I know, I could do Little Richard!" Paul said excitedly, bobbing a little on the table. He took a deep breath, and began belting out "Long Tall Sally"

"**I'M GONNA TELL AUNT MARY, 'BOUT UNCLE JOHN, SAYS HE HAS THE MISERY BUT HE GOT A LOTTA FUN….OOOOOOHH! OH BABY! SOME FUN TO-" **He stopped suddenly, with a pained look on his face. "Oops," he said rather hoarsely.

"Aw Paul! Man, you _killed _your voice!" John said. "I told you were a choir boy. Been doin' a bit too much of the honey-voiced shit, huh? You never were really the rocker of the group, too much of a pansy." Paul glared at him.

"Now wait just a minute Lennon, in Germany I did a fair few of the scorching numbers."

"Yeah, and ya fell off the bloody stage and twisted yer ankle! Then ya 'ad to sit on yer arse an' play for the next few weeks." John smirked. I noticed that his accent got thicker and his choice of words more colorful when he was riled up.

All through this, Addie was watching carefully, then she spoke, "I didn't know you guys went to Germany."

"Oh yeah, we did, an' we 'ad one 'ell of a time! All the girls, an' the free booze, yeah, that was the life!" John said blissfully. Since Paul had cooled off a bit, he explained farther.

"John, George, some other guys and I went to Hamburg after this guy signed us on, we musta been about nineteen. We played in this dirty little club on the dirtiest street in the dirtiest part of town. We 'ardly got paid, and we slept behind the twenty-four hour theatre. Westerns goin' all night, it was enough to drive anyone mad."

John butted in, "Well it drove Princess Paulie up the wall, 'e complained about it constantly."

"Did you meet anyone memorable?" Addie asked. _Uh oh, _I thought, _time to open the Astrid and Stu drawer._

"Well, yes." Paul answered her, ignoring John's interruption. "There was a girl, she was a photographer, see. Her name was Astrid-"

"An' boy she was a looker!" Said John wistfully.

"_Anyway_," said Paul purposefully, a bit annoyed, "our mate Stu fell for her. She was a pretty thing, blonde hair, big blue eyes. Looked a bit like you, Addie, but her hair was short. She was a different sort of person, her and the artsy crowd. They called themselves "Exis," short for Existentialists. Stu thought she was gear, so he made eyes at her and bought her a drink. Pretty soon we were getting invited to her mother's house for dinner, and boy was her mum a good cook. Especially to five starving lads."

"Five? Who's Stu?" Addie asked. My breath caught in my throat. _Stuart. _John was looking fixedly at the wall, but his hands were shaking slightly, giving him away. "And who's the other one? What about Ringo?" Addie was frowning slightly, not yet noticing John's odd behavior. If I were her, I would stop, _right now. _

"Ringo wasn't with us yet. Pete Best was our drummer, he wasn't very good, so we traded in for Ringo." Paul looked uncomfortable.

_That's not right, _I mentally told him. _You made Mr. Epstein tell Pete that he wasn't wanted anymore. _I could see that Paul was staring at his feet, and John said,

"But you know, it was for the best. Ringo is the greatest drummer I've ever met." Of course the young men would not be willing to admit that they had done anything wrong, they were Lennon and McCartney, they were superheroes. They had hearts though, I could tell that they felt bad for betraying their friend and bandmate.

"I still haven't heard much about Stu." Addie said, oblivious to the slight changes behind John and Paul's masks. I only noticed because I knew where this was going. Even though I thought I knew everything, I was in for a big surprise.

"Well, Stu was a great friend of John's…" Paul began, but John cut him off.

"Let me tell, Paul." He sat up a little straighter and Addie pulled her knees to her chest, getting comfortable now that her human mattress was gone. John took a deep breath and began. "We met in collage. It was actually a bit of a joke, because it was art school. Some teacher had taken up me paper when I was at Quarrybank, and he saw the cartoons of 'imself. I liked to do that then, make fun of the teachers."

"Still does." Paul muttered. I suppressed a smile.

"_Anyway, _the 'Ead Master saw them, and thought they were good, so 'e sent 'em to the art collage. They liked 'em too, and even though my grades were shite, I got in.

Stu was a painter, abstract an' all that. I'd 'ad enough of living with me auntie, so we got an apartment together. George, Paul an' I would play in the lunchroom during our breaks. They went to the Liverpool Institute, so they only 'ad to walk across the street. People called us "the Collage Band."

There was this bird who followed me around for a little while, 'er name was Cynthia Powell. She was a dowdy little thing, mousy brown 'air, from the rich part o' town. You know what collage does to people, she soon got 'erself some sexy clothes and dyed 'er 'air blonde, like Brigitte Bardot.

We got together, an' she proved 'erself to be a good little girlfriend. One day, she came to me and said she was…ya know…pregnant." Addie gasped.

"Yeah…" He glanced at his hands. "The guys and I went to 'Amburg. Stu…Stu got beat up. Bad. 'E wouldn't let us take him to a doctor, 'e said 'e was fine. But-but 'e wasn't fine. 'E met Astrid, and they got together. They were engaged pretty soon.

You'd have to imagine that I was lonely. Me girlfriend was back in Liverpool, and all the girls around were hookers and strippers. That gets boring after a while. They're not _real, _ya know? Stu was looking into going to the art collage in 'Amburg, so 'e was away for the day. I was mad at 'im, because 'e said 'e didn't want to be in the band anymore. I found myself at Astrid's house. I reckon she was lonely too, because she asked me if we could go to the beach so she could get some pictures. She 'ad a portfolio due or somethin' and she needed some more.

We went to the beach, and we got to talkin'. Talkin' turned into somethin' else. You wont believe 'ow bad I felt when I got back to the club. Stu was me best friend." John's face was contorted with pain. "I betrayed 'im. Only the guys know about this, so mind you don't tell."

_Wha-what! John and Astrid…how did this not get out? _My thoughts were whirling around at a thousand miles an hour. _That explains "Baby's in Black" it was probably written for Astrid because John wanted her, after Stu…but she only wore black, she never came back._

"I won't, what happened to Stu? Was he angry?" Addie wanted to know. She was on the edge of her seat, and I sure hoped, for the boys' sake, that she wasn't a gossiper.

"I never told 'im. Astrid and I kept it a secret. 'E knew somethin' was up though. Those last few months…" He cleared his throat, " those last months were agony for the poor bloke. 'Is 'ead was killing 'im, but 'e still refused to see a doctor. 'E would get 'orrible migraines, and there was nothing we could do.

When 'e finally went to a doctor, they didn't know what was wrong. They thought it might be some physiological problem." John stopped, and examined his hands as if it were the last time he would ever see them. Paul looked at John, and I saw in his eyes that he wanted so bad to help him, but he just didn't know how.

"He was twenty one. We got in trouble for not having work permits, so we got deported. When we came back to Hamburg a few months later, he was gone. They said after his autopsy that it was a brain hemorrhage." Paul said.

"And they didn't know before?" Addie asked sadly.

"No." Paul replied, defeat in his voice. I'm not much for hugging, but he looked so sad and crumpled. His usually chipper demeanor was clouded and his beautiful face was gray with pain.

"Paul…" It was all I had to say. I wrapped my arms around him, and breathed him in. He smelled like a brand new instrument, clean and shiny. His fingers, calloused from plucking bass strings, were rough against mine.

Eyes like pools of chocolate with green sprinkles, framed in long black lashes. I barely reached his shoulder. I could feel a beat resounding within him, one that wasn't his heart, but something else. He had music in his veins. The pumping bass, the sweet chime of a piano, the steady beat of the drums, it was all there. All cocooned inside one person. I could see the intelligence in his eyes, more so than I could ever see on a computer screen, or in a picture in a book. The only thing that came close was hearing his music.

People say George is the soul, John is the mind, Ringo is the flesh and blood, but Paul, Paul is the heart. You can hear it in his songs, it's what makes his voice so sweet. The overwhelming clarity, like a million songbirds, that is Paul McCartney.

John spoke quietly, " 'E was me best mate. I never told 'im the truth. 'E never knew what I did." He looked at Addie with tortured eyes.

"That's why…that's why you cried. You cheated again." She said. I expected her to yell, to at least slap him, but she put her head against his chest and told him it was going to be all right. She closed her eyes and was out for the count a few minutes later.

'_Course it is. Everything'll be alright. We'll get home, and these boys will fight their demons. I hope…_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: American Birds (Ringo's POV)

I was dreaming about an octopus again. It was big and blue, and a yellow submarine kept getting caught in its tentacles.

"Noooooo! Jackson, leave Evan alone!" I jolted awake. The octopus hadn't said that!

"Leave him alone!" The bird shrieked again

"Addie, Addie, hush baby! It's okay! Wake up, c'mon, it's just a dream! I heard John say frantically. I decided to go and investigate.

"What's up?" I asked, going into the living room.

"She won't wake up!" Said Paul. I walked up behind John, and looked over his shoulder at the blonde girl who was tossing and turning on the couch. Suddenly, Addie opened her eyes, and looked at John, who was kneeling in front of her. Her blue eyes were wild, and she was breathing heavily.

"Are you alright?" I asked her.

"What-oh God, where am I?

"You're in New York, with the Beatles." Paul said hesitantly from where he stood, a little behind John.

"Oh yeah, that's right. How could I forget?" We shared concerned looks.

"Are you sure you're alright?" John asked, putting a hand to her forehead. "I didn't scare you last night, did I?" He asked in a voice only for her.

"I'm okay, I promise." She said, brushing his hand away. "It was just a dream." She sat up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling widely.

George got up from the end of the couch, where he had been sitting, and yawned.

"What's for breakfast?" He asked eagerly.

"You're always hungry, kid! You already had cornflakes and jam butties with our lovely lady this morning!" Said John.

"I'm not a kid! And I'm hungry again, I've slept since then." George replied.

"What's this about breakfast with a lovely lady, Georgie? Have you been seeing the queen and not telling your old mates?" I asked. I heard a laugh from the doorway and looked to see a brunette in one of our dress shirts leaning against the doorframe.

"Morning, Ringo." She said happily. "I'm Molly."

"Welcome to our cage and sanctuary." I replied with a grin.

"Yep, we're like caged animals." Paul said.

"No, we feed ourselves." Muttered John.

"Well, I'm going to go feed myself." George announced. "Anyone care to join me?"

"I will." I said, following him. Once we were in the kitchen, I turned on him and said, "So you like Molly?"

"Yeah." He said sheepishly.

"But what about Boyfriend?

"I don't know, but she doesn't seem that interested in him anymore." George said with a slightly smug smile.

"Molly would die for me. She said so." Said Ian, walking into the kitchen. The living room had gone quiet, everyone was listening in. "Molly and I have been dating since we were thirteen. I'm not about to let you mess that up." The blue eyes stared coldly at the amused brown ones.

"Alright, show her some love, and she might give you some back." Said George.

"Geo, leave him alone." I said, trying to break up this fight before it started.

"That's it Ringo, always the mediator! Too bad that wasn't enough to keep everyone else's egos from destroying the band!" Ian cried.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, getting a sour feeling in my stomach.

"This band is going to crash, hard. You're all going to hate each other, and then John's gonna die before any one of you can apologize!" I felt the blood leave my face. _John is going to die? Before we can make amends after having a big row? No. The kid's got to be lying._ I thought. _We'd never do that to each other, we're best friends, for crying out loud!_

"Ian, quit it!" Molly said angrily. As she came into the kitchen, I saw tears tracing glistening trails down her pale cheeks. "Paul apologized." She said softly.

"Hey, that's no way to start the day." George said kindly, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"If that's how it's going to be, then I'm leaving!" Ian announced, walking out of the suite into the hall.

"Well that was awkward." Said Addie.

"I'll say." John said smugly.

"He'll come back, you'll see." Said George tenderly.

_Poor kid, _I thought to myself, _it must be so weird to be thrown back in time, and have your boyfriend walk out on you. She might never see her family again! _

"Well we shouldn't sit around. What are we going to do when Brian gets here? You know his rule, all girls must be gone in the morning." I said haltingly.

"But these aren't _those_ kind of girls. We'll explain it to him that these are our friends." Paul replied. He had a point, Brian would know the difference.

"He'll just have to get over it. These birds are our guests." John sniggered. "He can't just order us around, we aren't kids. Well, Georgie-Porgie is."

"I am _not _a kid! I'm twenty one!"

"Keep talkin' Georgie." John replied.

"It'll be alright, Mr. Epstein's nice." Molly said, a cheerful smile on her face. Her accent was more pronounced when she said "Mister." I'd never really heard anyone call our manager "Mister" before.

"Where's your accent from?" I asked.

"Georgia." She muttered quietly.

"And you're all the way up here in New York? That's longer than the drive from London to Liverpool!" George exclaimed.

"I was actually born in Alaska." She said stubbornly.

"She's a southern girl at heart though, aren't you Molly?" Kate said teasingly.

"Oh shut up." She replied, rolling her eyes.

"I've actually 'ad sweet tea before." I said, grinning. Her brown eyes lit up a bit.

"Really? Did you like it?"

"Yeah, it was like regular tea, except really sweet, and cold." I replied intelligently.

"Yup, that's how it is. Better than coke."

"I don't drink soda." Said Kate.

"WHY! Coke is AMAZING!" John said, looking at her, his mouth a perfect o.

"I like water better." Kate said, choking on her laughter.

"I'd better get ready." Said Molly, going into the bedroom. A second later, she stuck her head around the door. "I don't have anything to wear."

"That could be a problem." I said.

"You don't really have to wear clothes…" Muttered John. She rolled her eyes at him. "Let's go out then, and buy stuff!" He said excitedly. His brown eyes danced, and he smiled gleefully at Addie.

"Yes, I'm coming, I just don't have anything to wear either." Addie said with despair darkening her tone. "And I have to call my dad." She added quietly.

"Oh, no problem." Paul replied cheerfully. "We'll call your dad, then we'll go shopping! You guys can just wear the clothes you had on yesterday."

"Oh boy! Shopping!" Molly squeaked.

"But my dad's pretty strict, and he will be mad that I wasn't back last night." Addie said, tears welling in her eyes. "He wont ever let me out again, much less with four guys!"

"It's alright," said George, "we'll have Brian speak to him. He's pretty persuasive."

"Speaking of Eppy…" John muttered darkly as Brian Epstein walked in.

"Hello boys!" Our manager said cheerfully. He looked the part, medium height, neat hair, suit, and he had an air of professionalism about him.

"Morning Mum!" Said John, hopping up and planting a kiss on Brian's cheek. Paul, George and I rolled our eyes.

"John, for heaven's sake!" Mr. Epstein scolded, but his cheeks flushed an amusing cherry. We all laughed at John's clowning. Of course we all knew that Brian was gay and Jewish, not a happy combination. We had all gotten used to John having a good laugh at his manager's expense. That was just John Lennon, he didn't mean anything by it, that was the way he connected with people, by making fools out of them. If you passed the test, and laughed along with him, you were his friend.

"And who are these young ladies?" He asked, professionally polite, as always, no matter what he was thinking.

"These are our friends, Addie, Molly, and Kate. Molly's boyfriend was here a while ago, but he got mad and left." I filled in. I left out the part about them being from the future, which was probably for the best, too much explaining.

"Alright. I'm sorry, but they'll have to go. We have a schedule…" Brian began apologetically.

"Briiiiaaaan. Pretty pleeeeease?" John whined pitifully. He gave him the puppy dog eyes, and I saw Brian melt.

"Fine boys, you can have the day off. God knows you deserve it. You'll still have to do the concert tonight, and please, _please _don't get into any trouble. I'll see you later." He looked slightly relieved, I thought, but also worried. _How much trouble to we have to cause to be "in trouble"? _I wondered devilishly. Looking at the lads, I saw they were pondering the same thing.

"Brian doesn't know what he's released on New York." John said, that Lennon look glimmering dangerously in his eyes. _Oh boy, New York City, watch out. Messer's Starr, Lennon, Harrison, and McCartney are hitting the streets. _


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Comeuppance (Paul's POV)

My dad always told me to think before I acted, but that wasn't the case that blustery day in America. I took a leaf from John's book, and convinced Addie that we would call her dad later.

She resisted, at first. I felt bad dragging her out the door, but we supposed it was for her own good. It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission, right? Kate was happy to go out, and didn't really mind that she had to wear the clothes from the day before for the time being.

Something about that intrigued me. I had always been conscious about my appearance, but it didn't seem to bother her all that much. She was easy going, and it didn't take anything at all to start up a conversation with her. The boys sometimes called me "bossy," a "control freak" or John's favorite, "Princess Paulie," she was none of that. Of course, she was as pretty as a princess. Her hair was coppery and wavy, and her eyes were like the water in the top of a volcano, reflecting the sky.

Kate McKenna was a dreamer. I suppose I was too, after everyone had gotten the song right, done the overdubs correctly, let Ringo and George do one, tell George his song might make the next album, let John yell at the producers a bit, _then _I was a dreamer. After everyone had gone home, and the studio was dark and empty, I could sit at the piano and _dream. _The music would flow out of my fingertips, onto the piano keys.

I had written things besides pop songs, of course, a few bars of classical music, and even a little ballad. But I knew John would laugh, so I kept them to myself. They were stuffed under my mattress at home, scribbled and crossed out and re-written a's and b's and various other piano chords with guitar accompaniment. No notes, because I couldn't read music.

The wind was blowing all of Kate's beautiful red hair around. We were walking down the street, about a block from our hotel.

"Ha! Free at last!" John cried, dropping Addie's hand to leap into the air and wave his hat around.

"You haven't changed much since you were sixteen, John." I said, suppressing laughter.

"Hey, let's go in here!" John yelled, skipping towards the open door of a ladies clothing store.

"John…" I began nervously, but Addie and Molly shushed me, their eyes shimmering blue and brown, both with hints of shadiness. They were opposites, but twins at the same time. _Doppelgängers _I think is the word. 

"We're going to get in trouble…" Kate said cautiously, but Addie and Molly each grabbed one of her hands and pulled her after John.

"Relax Paul, this'll be fun!" George assured me, grinning his crooked grin.

"We can't get into that much trouble, we're pop sensations!" Said Ringo enthusiastically.

"Alright, fine. Let's go." I sighed and followed them.

"OUT OUT OUT! Get out you troublemakers! Musicians, my foot!" The balding manager of the store chased us back out into the street. He snatched the blonde wig off John's head and the huge sunglasses off Ringo's face. "Be thankful I'm not reporting you!" He yelled, his face turning purple. He turned to go back inside, muttering about how the youth thought they ruled the world.

"Well he was grumpy, let's try here." John said, walking into a coffee shop. The door dinged, and the lady behind the counter looked up.

"Can I help you?" She asked.

"I'll handle this one." Ringo said, walking up to the counter. "Hello Miss, what's your favorite coffee to get?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the mocha chai with half and half, ice crushed to three quarters of an inch and two shots of espresso?" Then recognition lit up her face. "You're a _Beatle_!" She exclaimed.

"Why yes, I am. Which one?"

"The um, the one with the big nose-" she began.

"And the big somethin' else!" John interrupted. Her eyes widened. Ringo held out his hands about a foot apart proudly. I just couldn't help myself, I had to butt in.

"Excuse me Miss…" I put my hands about two feet apart and gave her the bedroom eyes everyone was always talking about. Molly and Addie giggled and Addie nudged Kate, who waggled her eyebrows.

"Why I never!" The girl behind the counter gasped. The door dinged again, but no one turned to look.

"Allow me to show you, these lemmings are being crude with their primitive hand motions." John said in a London accent.

"Just what were you planning to show this young lady?" Asked a cold voice behind us. We all turned around, and John quickly put the napkin he was illustrating on and his pen behind his back.

The police officer was jowly, and had uneven yellow teeth in a big mouth. His eyebrows were black and thick. He put a thick stubby hand out, and in a gravely voice asked for the drawing.

"Lemme see that, son." John meekly handed over the napkin, and as the man looked at it, the lines in his face deepened. "You troublemakers are coming with me." He nodded at the counter girl. "Sorry they bothered you, miss." She bobbed her head quickly, and continued to stare at us like we were aliens. I suppose we shattered her image of four clean, albeit long-haired, boys from England. Now we were dirty mutts from under the docks of Liverpool, the armpit of the United Kingdom.

The police station was only two blocks down the street. I was glad, because I didn't know how we could have all squished into the back of a police car. The wind blew harsh and cold, and Molly was shivering. George put his arm around her.

"Cold?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm not used to this kind of weather." She replied, leaning into him. I took Kate's hand. It was warm.

"You aren't cold?" I asked her.

"Nope." She smiled at me.

"You don't get bothered by much then, I guess."

"Not really." She said.

When we arrived at the police station, we were directed to a bench. Molly immediately sat on the floor and took out a piece of paper and started reading.

"What're you looking at?" I asked.

"Nothing!" She said quickly, folding the paper.

"That was a little too quick for me, 'and it over." Said John, getting on his knees in the floor next to her.

"No." She replied defiantly. The skirt of the pretty blue dress we had bought her lay pooled around her on the dirty white and green tiles. I imagined they must be very cold.

"Alright kids, this is why you're here." A younger officer announced. He cleared his throat and began to read. "Disturbing the public, attempted robbery, public indecency and walking on the grass in central park."

"WHAT!" Yelled John, always one to respond with anger. "We fuckin' did what? What kinda shit is this? Yer bloody tryin' tell us we're 'ere 'cause we WALKED ON THE FUCKIN' GRASS?"

"Well um…" The 'officer' couldn't have been more than twenty, and he was clearly flustered as to what to do. "T-that and p-public indecency…and attempted robbery…and d-disturbing the public…there's a bit of a fine…"

"At least we aren't being thrown in jail." Ringo said brightly.

"Well, um, if the fine isn't paid in um, twenty minutes, then we will have to hold you in a cell…"

"THAT'S BLOODY RIDICULOUS! YOU CAN'T DO THAT, YOU FUCKIN' SOD!"

"John, you aren't helping." I said quietly.

"Shut up Paul, I can 'andle this meself. Now Officer, you can't hold me, I'M NOT A BLOODY AMERICAN CITIZEN!"

"JOHN! They can still hold us, they can put us in jail for as long as they like." I said scathingly. The famous Lennon temper was just exploding, and there was a lot more to come.

"_Because _we aren't American citizens, it's even harder for us to get a lawyer. Just cool it, John, your mouth will get us into even more trouble." George said wisely.

"They're right, just sit back down and we'll call your manager or something." Addie said, putting a hand on his arm. He flinched at her touch, but complied.

"We've got money!" said Molly. "Don't we George?" George, who was holding our money for us, pulled out his wallet.

"I'm sorry, I spent the last of it on that necklace for Molly." He said, casting his eyes down. "I mean, we've got more, but it's at the hotel."

"Could we go get it?" Ringo asked the officer.

"Eh, no. You can't. You have to stay here. I'm sorry, it's regulation." He replied.

"We'll call Brian then." I said, getting up, "where's the phone?"

"This way." He walked off into a side hall, and I followed. When we got to the phone, I picked up the shiny black receiver and looked blankly at the numbers. I couldn't remember the hotel phone number. There was a tap on my shoulder.

"I figured you wouldn't remember." Kate said, smiling. She handed me a piece of paper.

"Thanks, girl." I said, kissing her lightly on the cheek. She giggled, blushed and said,

"I'll go back and sit on the bench, I wasn't actually supposed to get up."

"See you in a minute, love." I said, giving her a little wave. I hurriedly dialed the number. While it was ringing, I turned the piece of paper over. There was a bit of an article on the back.

_In spite of their hardships, the Fab Four will always be a band to remember. Even though they fought, and Ringo, then George, then John and finally Paul all called it quits, they will go down in history. In spite of the fact that their manager died from an overdose, and they all did too many drugs, they still made it into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame. _

_ John met Yoko, and he wanted something different. His friendship with Paul deteriorated, though they had been friends since they were teenagers. George found religion, and Krishna. Ringo turned to the booze, and John did heroin. Paul was arrested for marijuana in Japan, and spent nine days in jail. _

_ For the majority of the seventies, they hated each other. John and Paul began a war in which they wrote scathing songs about each other, and called each other names via the press. The songs "Too Many People" and "How Do You Sleep" are testaments to this. Just before John was shot and killed, in 1980, he and Paul made up. They almost came together one last time to perform on tv, but then decided they were too tired. _

_ After John died, Paul wrote "Here Today" as a tribute. When George died of cancer in 2001, Ringo responded with "Never Without You" to his fallen bandmate. This proves that they were still best friends, all four of them. Like Ringo said, "I was an only child, and they were my brothers." _

_ John Lennon died too young, only forty, just as he was about to resume his career. As did George, only fifty-eight. They partied hard, those boys, and that takes its toll. Minds near destroyed by drugs, bridges burned, lungs ruined, ex wives in tow, the lesson learned is that greatness comes with a price, and with great talent comes great responsibility. _

I dropped the receiver. _John was shot and killed. _That didn't make any sense. Why would someone want to kill John? Sure, he was annoying, but that was just the way he was. Surely he couldn't have done something so horrible that they would want to _kill _him.

And George, my little brother, dead of cancer in less than fifty years? Not possible. Krishna? Who the hell was that? George wasn't particularly interested in religion, it couldn't possibly drag him away from his mates. Yoko? What? John loved Cyn, sure he played around, but he wouldn't leave Cynthia and Julian. He might be irresponsible, but he did his best to make sure his family was taken care of.

I listened to the beep beep beep of the busy signal. Figured as much. I walked back to the bench, shuffling along like an old man. A shell-shocked old man. _When I'm sixty-four…_The song John had helped me write when we were kids popped into my head. George and John wouldn't live to see sixty-four. Unless this was all a joke, we were on the road to failure. _Wait a second, not failure, success! Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame! _Yes, but at what cost? Two of my best friends in the entire world. Not even fame was worth loosing them.

The six of them were sitting in the cold front room of the police station. Molly was on the floor, leaning against George, who was sitting on the bench in between John and Ringo. Addie was clutching John's hand tightly. Kate looked up when I came in.

"Did you get ahold of him?" She asked.

"No. But what's this?" I held the paper up. Molly looked at me with frightened eyes.

"Ha, nothing." She said softly.

"There you go again with the "nothing" thing. It's something. Give it here, Paul." John said, holding out his hand. I crumpled the article into a ball and tossed it to him. He straightened it out, and quickly scanned through it. I saw his jaw working, and I could nearly see the wheels turning in his brain.

"That's it. I'm fucking done with this shit." He said, his voice cold and hard. He wasn't yelling like before, this anger was smoldering, not flaming. My feet were sinking into the floor. _Done with this shit. _He passed it to Ringo and George. _The dream was crashing. Ian was right. Boom. Over. _

"What're we gonna do?" Asked Ringo in a shaky voice.

"Nothing. We're fucking going to do nothing. I'm gone. Thanks Molly, you saved us from a lot of crazy shit." John said defiantly, but also sadly.

"He's right, you know. Krishna? What the hell? I'm leaving too." George stood up and walked to the door. "I'm leaving before I lose my mind."

"Guys! It can't be so horrible! You know, when Dylan turned us on to weed, that was cool, wasn't it? Good times are sure to come, and that isn't necessarily what's going to happen…" Ringo faded out, knowing he was fighting a loosing battle.

"You aren't going to die, Ritchie. Addie babe, c'mon." Said John sourly.

"John…Ringo's right, what if it isn't true?" She replied.

"But it is true!" Kate exclaimed. Molly's eyes got even bigger. Kate turned white. "I mean, it really isn't all that bad…" _Oh no. _I thought, _it's true…it's all true…_

"We were brothers! We were heroes!" Ringo stood up. "Don't be cowards! We'll fight fate, we can do it!" He stomped his foot and it echoed through the building.

"No, Ring, we can't." George shook his head sadly. I hadn't noticed that he was still there, holding the door open, letting in the rain. "We're like a plane whose engine has stopped running, the only way is down."

"You're just mad because you die of cancer!" I said, anger creeping into my voice.

"This isn't a movie, Paul! This is real!"

"It's real alright, we _got into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame._" I responded. "Eternal fame! What else could you want?"

"Well my head without a bullet in it for starters, please thank you good riddance and goodnight." John retorted, dry Lennon to the end.

"You're just living up to it. If we didn't know, it could have turned out differently."

"Aw come off it Ringo, you're just so damn positive all the time!" George half-yelled. We turned in shock. There he stood, "the Quiet Beatle," dapper in his hated stage suit, lashing out at his best friend. The world turned black around the edges, and then slowly spiraled to the middle, and I heard a distant thud that must've been my head hitting the floor.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Horror Movie (Paul's POV)

"Come here, James Paul McCartney." A voice said. Everything was still dark.

"Sorry, I can't see." I held up my hands, nothing.

"My bad, here you go." The Voice said. I found myself standing in front of a door that said "Film Preview" on it. "Go in there and sit down. Popcorn?"

"Uh please." I opened the door cautiously, and stepped inside. A red carpet led down a center isle lined by chairs. _A movie theatre! _

"Not just any movie theatre, this one is for viewing something before it is released. Please, sit." I found myself a chair as close to the middle as I could get. It didn't hurt to have things neat and tidy. Popcorn appeared in my hands. I ate some, suddenly being very hungry. _Mmm, buttery. Not bad. _

I heard the click and hum of a projector starting up and a fragmented movie began to play on the screen. Our little house back in Liverpool, my mother in the hospital, my little brother and I blinking back tears. Fast forward about a year to when I had just turned fifteen, and met John. Ridiculous Elvis hair, Hamburg, Brian, suits, Bob Dylan and his magic plant. Popping pills to keep us going, the girls raided the stage.

Four scared musicians cowered behind the drums.

"I hope they don't hurt me drums."

"I hope they don't hurt my guitar." The second one clutched his instrument close.

"I hope they don't hurt my face, the girls love my face..."

"I hope they don't hurt me lower regions, how would I survive?" At that I chuckled softly. John Lennon, that horrible, rude, mean, sarcastic, loveable son of a gun. The scene changed.

"I'm so bored! There's nothing to do. Remind me to veto the next movie…" John whined, banging his head on the table.

"I dunno, I kinda like skiing." Ringo said brightly, brushing snow off his coat. I watched in horror as I miserably failed at hanging a pair of skis up on a wall. John sniggered and pulled something out of his coat.

"Put the towels under the door, let's forget this shit." He said, pulling out a lighter. I cringed at the smile that lit up my face. _Already regulars, huh?_

"You bet." Said the Voice, "but this is only _Help, _1965. It gets better."

In the next scene, our hair was even longer.

"C'mon, it's a three minute song. Let me have it, John" George looked almost gaunt. And my tie! What was I thinking putting that horrid orange thing around my neck?

"Fine, George. Have it." John replied. I had to look twice to make sure it was him. He was a skeleton, but you could see from the way he hunched his shoulders that he still thought something was wrong with him. His glasses were National Health, like the kind he broke on purpose so his aunt would buy him a pair like Buddy Holly. He sighed and put his face in his hands.

"All right, John?" I saw myself ask.

"Yeah." He walked out of the room, and I followed him.

"Is it Cyn?" I asked.

"Paul, she's really cool, but I want other women, you know? She's like a little chameleon, always perfectly fitting in, doing what everyone tells her to."

"I thought that's why you married her, John."

"I married her 'cause I got her pregnant."

"You dated her so she wouldn't steal your spotlight." I argued.

"But what's left? America hates me because of that stupid Jesus remark…"

"True, that was a pretty dumb thing to say."

"Paul, you're supposed to be helpful." I saw his face, the circles under his eyes. He looked _old, _and _old_ wasn't a word I would have used to describe John. The scene changed again.

"Same year, 1966." Said the Voice.

The four of us were sitting in a circle, and George was tinkering with a funny-looking guitar.

"Hey, um Voice?" I asked cautiously. "What's that George has?"

"Shhh, just keep watching." It replied.

"I vote we stop touring. It's getting too crazy." George said as he made the weird-guitar thing make a cool sound. I had to admit, that kid was good with his strings.

"You think you've found "The Way" because of that trip you and John went on. If you ask me, touring is fab, and acid is dangerous." I said stubbornly.

"Ugh, Paul, _fab_? Been reading those teen mags again? Acid is groovy, man. Takes you to a whole new level." John said, taking a drag on his cigarette.

"Maybe you two should be careful about that whole LSD scene, Paul's right, it's dangerous. You have no idea what you're doing, you're like little kids jumping into the deep end the first time they get their floaters off." Said Ringo. I was beginning to get the feeling that Ringo was our backbone, the steady beat keeping us all on track.

"I think you're outvoted on the touring, Paulie. Three to one." John said. "And Rings, if you never try anything new, you never get anywhere. Just stuck in the same place."

"FINE!" I yelled. "Jane and I were going out tonight, anyway." I got up and stormed out the door.

"He left his coat." George said.

"I'll bring it to him." Ringo got up and grabbed it off the piano bench. "Hey Paul!" He caught up to me as I stalked angrily down the hall. "Here's your coat. What's up? You usually don't forget things."

"I don't know, I guess I'm just really tied up about George and John. They seem to be going in the wrong direction." My brows furrowed and I saw the beginnings of wrinkles crisscrossing my forehead.

"They're just excited. They'll come around." He said cheerfully.

"You're so bloody optimistic." I smiled and cuffed him lightly on the shoulder.

"And you're becoming a worrier. Go play with Jane the Goddess, that oughta loosen you up, Scrooge." He winked and headed back to the studio.

The next scene made me blink and look harder at us. We seemed to have sprouted mustaches, weird clothes and more group discontent.

"Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds is our next single. I don't give a damn what you think, Paul." John said, his facial hair quivering. I fought the urge to laugh. _If only he could see himself…_

"No, think about it John, it's an acronym for LSD. It'll get banned." I was beginning to side with myself. Except for that mustache, _that_ had to go.

"Next, 1968."

"Wait, what?" I asked the Voice, "was that '67?"

"Yes, we're on a schedule, so please be quiet."

John was sitting in a studio that was _not _ours with a figure in white that was _not _a Beatle. He had shaved below his nose, thankfully, but now he had horrible muttonchops and his hair brushed his shoulders.

"Oh I don't know, Yoko. It needs more feeling." John looked like a scared little boy, and the next words that came soaring out of him with all the musical talent he could muster certainly backed that up.

"_Half of what I say is meaningless,_

_But I say it just to reach you, Julia…" _John was singing about his mother. Julia Lennon was a beautiful woman, and I had been privileged enough to meet her. She let us practice in her bathroom, where the tiles made for great acoustics. When she got run over by a drunk policeman, John was seventeen. Eleven years later, he was finally singing to her. I burst through the door.

"Hey Lennon! Are you gonna help me with those harmonies or not?" I half-yelled.

"Sod off, bastard. I'm busy here." So we had gone from frosty caution to full out abuse.

" 'Scuse me, but I can't hear meself think. I'm trying to lay down a track for George." Ringo said, sticking his head in. I saw that he had opted to keep his mustache, and it actually fit him pretty well.

"Has George really decided to use that shit of a song?" John asked with a cold, mean look in his eyes. Usually, he smiled as he teased. I began to hear a roar in my ears as I realized he wasn't teasing, he was dead serious. "Did he ask McCartney for permission? I think everything has to go by him before it gets on the album." The look on his face was now deadpan. He absentmindedly played with a strand of Yoko's hair.

"I'm right here, John."

"Did you hear something, Yoko?"

"Lennon, I said I was right here!" My fists were clenched. He looked at me with bored eyes.

"Neither did I." Grabbing his guitar and Yoko's hand, he walked out the door.

"Where're you going, John?" Ringo called after him.

"The shit hole!" He replied coarsely.

"With her?"

"She's got a name, bastard, use it!"

"Leave him alone John, he can't help that you're a selfish arse with an ugly Japanese shadow." I said. Those words nearly brought tears to my eyes. We were so _mean. _

"Hilarious Paul, hilarious and original." He walked down the dark hall, looking like a stick figure in his bellbottom jeans. Yoko, dressed in all white, seemed to glow beside him.

By the next scene, I had caught on to the pattern, this must be 1969. The muttonchops had been a short-lived pursuit apparently; John was now clean-shaven and sitting in a corner dressed in white with Yoko by his side. I clenched the armrests when I saw my own face. A giant black beard made me look like a musically talented lumberjack. John thought it was funny too,

"What song are we gonna do now, McBeardy?"

"Don't call me that."

"Alright, McBeardy." John wasn't even smiling, he just looked bored. We were in a different studio, and I could see cameras all around.

"Two of Us." I said. We began playing, and the sound was so…sophisticated. We sounded like professionals. McBeardy wasn't pleased, though.

"It's complicated now. We can get it simpler, and then complicate it where it needs complications." His brow furrowed as he plucked a few chords on his bass. Very tricky, I admired his skill. George looked at him with fire in his eyes. His mustache stuck out like a sore thumb, and he looked uncomfortable under the bright lights.

"It's not complicated." He retorted.

"This one is like, shall we play guitars through 'Hey Jude'…well, I don't think we should."

"Yeah, okay well, I don't mind. I'll play, you know, whatever you want me to play. Or I won't play at all if you don't want me to play, you know. Whatever it is that'll please you, I'll do it." He stood and walked out the door. I sat down and ran my hands though my hair. The real me looked at the cameras, the little red light was on, they got all that on film.

I sighed angrily. When was this horror movie going to end?

"In due time. Just watch." The Voice said. The next couple shots were quick, us standing on some roof, playing like it was a concert, us crossing the street in front of the studio. John looked like Jesus in that one, dressed in white, auburn beard flowing. I noticed with surprise that I had my moptop back.

Then I was dancing around in some field with a blonde bird. A little baby with black hair crawled to me. I picked her up and swung her around. A little girl with blonde hair said "Daddy, me next!" in an American accent.

I wasn't in the one after that. Ringo was sitting in an unfamiliar recording booth. John was singing into a microphone with headphones on.

"_The only thing you done was yesterday_

_And now you're gone it's just another day…_

_Oh, how do you sleep_

_At night… _Ah, sorry. Hey Allen, let's do that again. How am I doing, Yoko?"

"Brilliantly, John." John seemed satisfied with this answer, and looked up to Ringo. "What do you think?" Ringo frowned and drummed his fingers on the counter nervously. Then he pressed the intercom button and his voice echoed through the studio, "That's enough, John. Quit attacking Paul." He got up and walked out the door, with John yelling obscenities at his back.

In the scene after that, I was sitting on a white couch in a white room with an aged John.

"C'mon Johnny! It'll be fun!" I begged. He smiled bemusedly and continued to stare at the TV.

"I guess. I'm tired though, let's just stay here and enjoy each other's company."

"Alright." I was disappointed, but it seemed like I was thrilled to be in the same room as him.

"You know, sometimes I think Hitler could've taken over the world with television." His smile turned wicked, and he pulled something out of his pocket, looking around with a sneaky air. "Or a simple garden weed."

In my seat, I rolled my eyes. Did the entire world revolve around that stuff in the future?

"Right on, Johnny boy." I said, and held out my hand. "Just like good old times?"

"Nope, Beatlemania was hell. I rather like it the way it is now." John got a far away look in his eyes as he took a drag.

"Bagism." I scoffed.

" 'Ey, watch it. I could get security up here." He teased.

"They'd be on the floor giggling in seconds." For some reason, we both found this hilarious, and as the scene shifted, we were dying of laughter.

The next sounds I heard were five cracks of a gun. There was a scream, and as the blackness faded away, I saw a crowd gathering around the front of a big fancy building.

"He shot John Lennon!"

"Call the cops!"

"Is that really him?"

"Mr. Lennon, can we have an interview?"

Piano music was playing, and a crowd stood holding candles. They were absolutely silent, and John's voice began to sing

"_Imagine there's no heaven__  
><em>_It's easy if you try__  
><em>_No hell below us__  
><em>_Above us only sky__  
><em>_Imagine all the people living for today___

_Imagine there's no countries__  
><em>_It isn't hard to do__  
><em>_Nothing to kill or die for__  
><em>_And no religion too__  
><em>_Imagine all the people living life in peace___

_You, you may say __  
><em>_I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one__  
><em>_I hope some day you'll join us__  
><em>_And the world will be as one___

_Imagine no possessions__  
><em>_I wonder if you can__  
><em>_No need for greed or hunger__  
><em>_A brotherhood of man__  
><em>_Imagine all the people sharing all the world___

_You, you may say __  
><em>_I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one__  
><em>_I hope someday you'll join us__  
><em>_And the world will live as one"_

A beautiful blonde woman, the same I was dancing in the field with, was crying on my shoulder. We both looked older, and my eyes were tortured as I gently rubbed her back.

"It's alright Lin, we'll get through this. It's not like with Mum, they've got better treatments now." I brushed a tear from her face as she lifted her head to look at me.

"I'm so sorry Paul." She had an American accent, and her eyes were a beautiful blue. "Just, the kids…"

"It's alright, really. We'll tell them, they're old enough. James, our baby, is going to collage next year! We will get you the best care money can buy, love. You'll make it through, I just know it."

The next scene was very short; a coffin was being lowered slowly into the ground. I stood, slightly hunched, with tears running down my face. Wind blew steadily, and it must have been cold, because people were shivering in their black clothes. It reminded me scarily of my mother's funeral, almost nine years ago.

George and I were sitting in a garden. He was old, weak, and dying. I seemed to be at least sixty. He smiled and twirled a flower in his hands.

"Remember when we were young, Paul?"

"I remember."

"We thought we were the kings of the world. Nothing could stand in our way.

We screwed up royally."

"We sure did. Remember that time you splashed your drink all over a photographer?" I chuckled.

"Oh yes, he was annoying." George rested his chin on his hand.

"You said something about baptizing him. Most of the time we had no idea what was going on."

"High on stardom." He sighed painfully. "I'm going soon."

"Going where, Geo?"

"Going on. But I don't think I'll be back. I think I chose the full life rather than lots of lives that were mundane." He turned to me, "watch over my family will you? I don't want anything to happen to them."

"Sure Georgie."

"Thanks Paul."

The screen went black. The movie was over. I sat in my seat for several minutes, contemplating the future.

"What did you think?" The Voice asked.

"Well, um, I thought it was depressing. Is that really going to happen? How can I avoid it?"

"Forget."

"But _how _can I forget _that_?"

"Ask Molly."

11


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Nothing (Ian's POV)

As I wandered through New York, I began to get second thoughts about going off on my own. Molly was a good girl, even though she might be a bit of a trouser-chaser. It wasn't right to just leave her. The guys might get tired of her and just dump her on the side of the road, stars fading from her eyes, and her famous pride bruised and battered.

"There were four boys and three girls. The boys looked kinda familiar." Two policemen were talking.

"Were they wearing matching black suits? They might've been on TV. A band or something…my daughter loves them."

"The Bugs?"

"Beatles." I corrected automatically.

"Oh, do you know them?" One of them looked at me, he was short, fat and seemed jolly enough.

"My girlfriend-well I don't know what she is now-is hanging out with them. She and a blonde and a redhead."

"Those are the ones! Come with us, please, we need someone to identify them."

I walked guiltily behind the policemen. I wasn't a troublemaker, and though I hadn't done anything, it all seemed so wrong. The seven of them were sitting in a room off to the side of the main hall. Molly was perched on the edge of her chair, elbows on the long wooden table. Paul had his head in his hands, and the others seemed to be trying to get something out of him.

"Alright kids, party's over. Mr. St. Martin here says he knows you."

"What's going on guys?" I asked. Their faces were drawn and grey, and Addie looked to be on the brink of tears.

"We can't get ahold of our manager. There's no one to bail us out." John said, his sentences clipped and terse.

"Ian, they know." Molly's face was scared. Whatever was happening, it was clearly pushing our earlier fight from her mind.

"They know what?"

"They know what's going to happen. They aren't going through with it. They're quitting."

"So?" I was kind of confused. And? I mean, they made some pretty good music, but it was just music.

"SO! You idiot! The Beatles have influenced music, culture and so much more. They did things no one else dared to do! The first ones to put the lyrics on the back of the album, Beatles. First ones to manipulate the amplifiers into making the music better, Beatles.

Whatever the Beatles did, popular culture followed. Indian religion, Summer of Love, ya know? The Beatles started out in pop, _She Loves You_ and all that. Then they turned the world on to a whole new sphere, psychedelics. Being mega-superstars, they entranced the kids from their record players and television sets."

"Listen Molly, I know they were important, but maybe it's only _that big _to the fangirls?" I still didn't get the big deal. Good for them, they would avoid the drugs.

"Ian, you aren't a musician. You don't get it. Just stop talking." Addie said bluntly, and I was coming to realize that was her manner.

"Ian, Addie, Molly, we're in a bit of tight spot at the moment. We're in jail, have ten minutes to get someone to bail us out, Brian's not picking up his phone, and Paul's having a meltdown. Could you three please stuff it?" Ringo was trying his hardest not to yell. He drummed his ringed fingers on the table while John poked Paul repeatedly.

"Paulie? Quit being melodramatic, please. Paul?" John began twisting his finger, giving him a mini- Indian burn. John seemed really annoying. Paul continued to rest his chin on his hands, staring blankly down at the table. "What's wrong?"

Finally, he spoke.

"I-I saw the end..." He shuddered.

"And? Did someone die? Was there a fight? What happened for Chrissake, McCartney?"

"I-it was h-horrible..." John shook him angrily, and all eyes were turned in his direction.

"WHAT HAPPENED!"

"I had a b-beard..." Paul hid his face completely, as if trying to stop the growth of his facial hair.

"Oh Paul..." George muttered. Ringo rolled his eyes and I fought back a laugh. John looked at him with pity.

"You dunce. You complete fool." He said, flinging the words like a child throwing sand. Then he smiled and hit him in the back of the head tenderly. "Well, we won't be witnessing it. If we ever get out of prison, that is." He looked glumly at me. "Have any money, runner boy?"

"Uh yeah, actually." I pulled out my wallet. It was still filled with the large bills my dad had given me when I left Georgia. "How much do you need?"

"Two hundred." John said. I pulled out the money and handed it to him, his eyes widening in surprise. "Well thanks, Ian." It was the first time I could remember that he called me by name. "We'll have Brian pay you back when we get back to the hotel." John balled his fist around the green bills and ran out the door, yelling for the officers.

"He's going to get us arrested-" Paul began.

"-again." Kate finished for him. She sent him a glowing smile, which he returned.

"Alright kids, you're free. Just keep yourselves behaved, and say hi to England for me when you get back." The policeman said, coming in the door with John following proudly behind.

Once we were out the door, George muttered,

"He was much friendlier after we paid him." His scowl was lifted when Molly giggled and reached for his hand. As soon as he took it, he looked at me. I could see what she saw in him, sort of. The cheekbones, she never stopped talking about George Harrison's cheekbones. I thought he was kinda scrawny too. Not that I was bulked up or anything, but George was _skinny_. Must be those cigarettes. And his eyebrows were really thick. He had brown eyes, which a lot of girls liked, I guessed. The thing was, Molly had always told me she liked guys with light eyes, blue or green. She probably told him that she liked guys with brown eyes.

"So, now that we're out, I'm leaving." John grabbed Addie's elbow, and started to walk off. All of a sudden, a bright light blinded me. I heard Paul groan, "Not again..." and then I had to close my eyes against the glare.

When I opened them again, Molly, Kate and I were in some sort of hut. A very old wizardy-looking man was sitting at a desk.

"Ah good, you're here. Just lovely." He had a high, squeaky voice and an overly long grey beard. When he turned in our direction, I saw that he had piercing blue eyes. _Dumbledore._ I thought instantly.

"Very amusing, young man, I get that a lot. Now, to business. You three let it slip to four very important boys that the future was going to be extremely uncomfortable for them." He glared at us like we were bad students who didn't turn in their math homework. "I understand that some of you were just caught up in the thrill" -here he looked at Kate and Molly- "and didn't realize what was happening. I'm sure you didn't mean for the boys to get ahold of that essay, did you, Molly?" She blushed and looked at the floor. "There is a solution, however. Slip this potion into their drinks, and they will remember nothing." He handed us a bottle of clear liquid.

"Um, sir, Paul was really upset about something. In the police station, he fainted, and when he woke up he was shaken and refused to talk. Do you know anything about that?" Kate asked, her blue eyes earnest. The warlock dude chuckled.

"Ah yes, my brother can get very creative when he feels like it. He enjoys bothering humans. I do believe he's influencing your friends now actually..." His face turned angry, and as the light shone in our eyes again, he was yelling into the sky.

I came back to reality dazed. I was standing in the street again.

"Well that was interesting." I said. Molly kicked me and gave me "the look." I shut up fast.

"I had a really wacky daydream, at least I think it was a daydream." Ringo looked really confused.

"Ah, so did I. Something about you guys, contacting, and a note. It was weird. Who wants to go out for drinks?" John rubbed his eyes as if forcing the memory out.

"We are out." Paul seemed tense, and held Kate's hand tightly. "But I agree. A drink would be nice." We headed off in the direction of a place to forget.

A little while later, we found ourselves in a pub. Across the table, I caught Molly staring at the bottle in her lap. _What's wrong? _I mouthed. She responded with a small shake of her head.

_Nothing._


	10. Thank You!

Dear Readers,

Thank you. Writing this story has been a pleasure for me, and it's so exciting to really see _my _words in print on a website. This story is, unfortunately, almost finished. I am evil and putting this just before the last chapter to torment you, my beloved Readers.

I will continue to write and publish, so don't go away! I would be so sad…Thank you so much for the reviews, nobody at my school really reads my work anymore, and they all think I'm crazy anyway. But you! You all share my devotion for the Beatles and understand how it feels to want to write about them for hours. Until next time, Dear Readers.

PS~This book is now bound! For Young Authors' at school, we make a book, and I chose this too be mine. I had my marvelous friend Margie (SpriteXGirl on deviantART) do the cover, and it's all splendid!


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: And in the End...(Molly's POV)

Even though I told Ian everything was okay, something was horribly wrong. I had to deceive George and then he would forget me forever. I waited with barely hidden tears for an opportunity to pour the stuff into his drink. _Slip this potion into their drinks and they will remember nothing. _Nothing. That was such a hard word, especially in a situation like this. I looked over at George, who managed to take a sip of his drink and cross his eyes at the same time. I giggled and sucked on the straw of my coke.

I would have to act fast, the boys were draining their drinks quickly. Kate was proving to be little help, as she was flirting with Paul, trying to squeeze in some last moments, I guessed. Help arrived in the form of Brian Epstein. As he walked through the door and crossed the pub to get to us, the boys jumped up and ran to see him like children to a father. Their excited babbling faded into the rest of the sounds around us as I focused on my job. Kate and Addie excused themselves to the bathroom.

I uncorked the bottle, and as the brown pluggy-thing popped out, a sweet smell drifted into my face. It was calm and lazy, warm and comforting. I felt my thoughts start to blur around the edges, and I was bringing the bottle closer to partake in the fullness of forgetting when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Ian's beautiful blue eyes, a stupid smile on my face.

"Molly, focus." It was all he said, but it snapped me out of it. I bit my tongue and poured a few drops into each of the boy's drinks, stopping at George's.

"I'm so sorry George, I love you." I tipped the glass bottle, and the last drops fell into his coke-and-scotch with a _plop._ Another _plop _sounded quietly as a tear escaped and jumped for freedom to join the potion in his drink. I heard the boys and their manager returning and I jumped back into my seat as they came into view.

"...and we had a bloody marvelous time doing it too! I had a weird vision of a man on a flaming pie telling us that we'd never see the girls again, but if we did so-and-so, we could send them a letter..." John took a breath and knocked back his drink. "Whoah..." He swayed and Brian, sitting next to him, looked at him with worry in his eyes.

"Are you alright John? I don't think it's a very good idea to be drinking anything too strong, you have a concert tonight."

"Something's up with this drink, it _was _scotch and coke." He got a dazed look in his eyes, and Ringo gulped and almost knocked his chair over as he ran to the bathroom. Paul looked green, but stayed in his seat. I looked nervously at George, only to find that he was looking at me. He sloshed the contents of his drink around, and his expression was one of wonder.

"Should I drink it, Molly?" He was only half-teasing.

"Do you trust me?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't pour it out. _It's for the best, it's for the best._ I repeated this over and over in my head, chanting it like a mantra.

"Yes." His eyes were honest and begging for an answer.

"Drink it, George. Everything will be better." To Brian, I said, "don't mention us, please, they won't recognize our names." He nodded. If John's memory weren't being reconstructed, I'm sure he would have been yelling, but he just sat demurely in his seat, head in his hands.

George downed his in one, choking a bit, and looked at me, startled. It hurt to see the way his eyes became unfocused and his face turned blank. I had to look away. That image would haunt me for a long time. Kate and Addie returned to the table, and Ian and I stood.

"What's up?" Addie asked.

"Don't mention us, go back home and forget you ever met John Lennon. Please, there are big things at stake." I was sad for her, but she wasn't meant to be with John, it wasn't in the cards. _I _wasn't supposed to be with George, this was all some freak of nature or whatever the heck was controlling time.

I couldn't hold back any longer, I ran to George and threw my arms around him. As our lips met, recognition sent sparks into mine. His eyes flew open, and he said "I love you, I'm sorry."

"It had to be this way." Tears were flowing without relent.

"Molly, don't cry. It's for the better, I think." The cop's voice sounded in my head, but somehow I knew it was that wizard person. _Party's over kids..._George's eyes lost their light, and as his hands fell away from my face, I turned to walk back to the life I belonged in.

George Harrison was only mine for a few days, and now he was history's again. Ian put his arm around me, trying to help. I shrugged him off. It was almost like he had moved across the country, things would never be the same.

With a sudden jerk, we were thrown back into the life we belonged in. Ian went to Yale to run, Kate went back to dreaming of Paul and making eyes at Edgar King. I sat down in front of my computer and began to write. I eventually grew up to be an impoverished but happy writer, with four kids and a backyard of sage and sand, just like I had always wanted. We all have our moments in the spotlight, some more special than others.

Whenever I would hear the Beatles on the radio, or on my iPod, I would think of sweet George, and his friends of course, and how they completely changed my life by being who they were and doing what they did best, being boys.


End file.
